The Jester
by The Mutant Jinx
Summary: When the Joker was still Jack, he had a sister named Jeanette. This is her story. Takes place after TDK. Rated T for violence and some crude language in later chapters.
1. Arkham and Escape

**A/N: Hello, there. This is my first Dark Knight fic, so please, no flames. Or knives.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the plot and the character of Jeanette.**

**And here…we…go!**

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I screamed as loudly as I could, kicking and punching, trying to get the madmen in white coats off of me. Just who did they think they were? God? No, no, they were the opposite. They were Satan.

"No! No! Get OFF ME!" Now they took a piece of white cloth and wrapped it around my torso. What the heck was this supposed to be?

The madmen opened a door in the long gray hall and tossed into a big, white, padded cell. "No!" I shrieked. They closed the door. I managed to stand up and waddle over to the large metal door. Dang it, I was too short to see through the bars. "SCREW YOU!" I screeched at the door. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I curled up in a ball on the floor. My body shook violently with my silent sobs as I mourned my fate.

Hello. My name is Jeanette. And if you're confused about the scene above, I was being sent to Arkham Asylum for reasons I could not comprehend. And I was only nineteen years old.

First, my father died of alcohol poisoning. After that, my scarred mother left me and my brother, Jack, to fend for ourselves. Then Jack went insane. Now I was being accused of being a complete psychopath.

Suddenly, I had a stroke of insight. Now I knew why I was there.

Those ignorant rich people, all holed up in their cozy penthouses all over Gotham—the judges and police commissioners—were afraid. They thought I really would go crazy. They were worried about their precious money and other material items.

_Now they had a reason to be._

My brother hadn't been wrong, after all. I just hadn't been able to see his logic. Now I, too, could fight for a good cause! But what would I call myself? Surely not just Jeanette.

Hmm…the Jester of Injustice? No, too mouthy. Just the Jester?

Yes, I liked that. The Jester, who worked alongside her brother the Joker.

Just then, I heard a crash outside. The door opened and I tensed, ready to spring. A man walked in, wearing a suit and a tan sack on his head. He held out his hand. "Come on!" he ordered.

I wiggled in the straightjacket. "A little help?"

The man turned me around and untied to cloth. Then he took my hand and led me out. In the doorway, I saw a security guard on the floor, knocked out cold. The man started to run. As he ran, he dropped metal cylinders onto the floor.

"What's that?" I asked curiously.

"Laughing gas," he answered. Ah; that must have been what knocked the guard out. I was also what prevented anyone from following us.

Cool.

When we were outside, I demanded, "Who are you?"

"Call me the Scarecrow," he replied. He dragged me to a black van and put me in the passenger's seat. He then proceeded to get behind the wheel.

"Why are you getting me out?" I wondered as he sped away.

"The Joker saw you on GCN and got concerned," said the Scarecrow. "I don't know why, thought. Are you a friend of his, or something?"

"You could say that," I grinned. My brother was okay. He was still looking out for me. I had gotten worried about him when he disappeared. A giddy, happy laughter bubbled up inside me and exploded outward. Soon, I was cackling a high-pitched cackle in my glee.

If I could see the Scarecrow's face, I bet he would have been giving me a strange look. "You okay?" he inquired. I just nodded. My laughter was making it impossible to speak.

We drove through Gotham at top speed. It was a good thing it was nighttime and the cops were asleep. Oh, I knew tales of the Batman, but I refused to believe that we would run into him.

The Scarecrow stopped outside an alley beside a bank. "Hurry, get out and run down the alley. You'll find a manhole. Open it, and climb down. You'll find him."

I got out. "Why to I have to—" My question was cut short when I felt a creepy presence in the air. I turned and ran, not looking back. Something told me that the Batman had come.

I found the manhole, just as the Scarecrow had promised. It was plain, nothing special. _Please let this be the right one, _I prayed. I pushed it back and began to climb down the ladder. Then I reached up and pulled the plate back into its place.

What I saw down there was beyond description. There was purple and green _everywhere_. I knew this had to be my brother's place. Purple and green had been his favorite color combination when he was around fifteen or so. It was like an underground mansion. Purple sateen fabric hung over green walls. There was also a mishmash of fancy, purple and green furniture. I liked it here.

I walked until I reached an ornately-carved door. I hesitated, wondering if I should go in. Finally, I decided that it would be best, so I pushed the door open and crept inside.

My brother was sitting at a desk in a purple and green room, opposite a bed with a violet coverlet and emerald pillows.

I froze in place, not sure at all what I should do. Part of me wanted to run to him, and part of me wanted to run _away _from him. I decided on calling to him. "J—Jack?"

He turned and stood. I tried again. "Jack, is that you?"

"It's not Jack," he said. "Jack doesn't exist anymore. It's the Joker now." He chuckled. My knees thawed out and I sprinted toward him, wrapping my thin arms around him in the tightest hug I could manage.

"Oh, Jack," I whispered. "It really is you."

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**All right. There's Chapter One. A bit of a shortie, but I couldn't help myself.**

**Don't forget to review!**


	2. Becoming the Jester

**A/N: I decided to write more.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and the character of Jeanette.**

**Enjoy tonight's entertainment.**

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I sat in one of the big green recliners in the parlor. The Joker sat in the purple one opposite me. "So," he said, "how are things with you?"

"Oh, you know," I replied. "Living in a filthy apartment building inhabited by a bunch of crack heads, seeing things before they happen, getting thrown into asylums; the usual. What's with you?"

"Oh, you know," he said. "Killing people and trying to find a way to get the Batman to crack; the usual."

For some reason, we both found our stories to be similarly hilarious, and we burst into fits of cackles until our sides hurt. Then he said, "You sound like you're leaving something out. What is it?"

"Well," I hedged. "When I was in the asylum—for all of thirty minutes, I might add—I decided that you're right. And I decided to join you."

"Really?" He cocked an eyebrow skeptically. "And just what were you planning to do?"

"You can't make me kill," I clarified. "That's where I draw the line. But I'll steal and I'll lie and I'll cheat…anything that makes this world see what real justice is."

He chuckled. "You're starting to sound more like me with every word. What were you planning to call yourself?" He leaned forward in his chair.

"The Jester," I said.

"Good. Good, good, good. That's a good name." He looked me up and down. "You know, you really can't go out in public like that. You'll need a disguise. Hmm..." He seemed to be thinking something over. "Okay, pick a color—green or purple?"

Well, purple was the color of royalty, so…"Purple," I said hesitantly.

He nodded. "Good," he said again. He rose to his feet. "I'll be right back. Stay here." He walked past my chair and I didn't bother to watch him go on.

I settled in the recliner. Suddenly, I was exhausted. I closed my eyes and let myself drift.

I was woken up by something hard falling into my lap.

"Here," said the Joker. I looked at the white box more closely.

"You…want me to dye my hair?" I stared at him, incredulous. Surely he wouldn't go this far.

"Uh-huh." Okay, so maybe he would. "Go on." He waved his hand toward what I assumed was the bathroom door.

If this would help me gain his trust, I would do it. So I got up and entered the bathroom. I flipped my hair. Now would be the last time to enjoy the rich, deep brown of my natural color.

Following the instructions, I put my hair up with the hair band I had on my wrist. Then I squirted the little bottle of purple dye onto my roots.

The box said to wait about twenty for the color to set in, so I sat on the toilet and read some of my brother's car magazines. Too bad his dreams of Lamborghinis would never come true.

After the color set in, I washed my hair out with warm water in the bathtub. Then I wrapped a towel around my dripping hair and walked back out. The Joker made a disappointed face.

"How come I don't get to see your hair yet?" he complained.

I grinned teasingly. "I have to wait for it to dry. Don't worry—my hair is only like a sponge." We both laughed at my excellent use of sarcasm.

After sitting in silence for about two minutes, he said, "Do you want to watch some television?" He was getting bored, just as I was. I nodded.

He moved over to one of the curtains on the wall. He pushed it aside, revealing a big flat-screen television.

"Let me guess—you stole that?" I giggled.

"You guess correctly." He grabbed a remote and clicked a button.

The channel that popped up as soon as he turned the TV on was GCN. A male newscaster was sitting at his desk. In the little picture box behind him was a snapshot of me as the police arrested me to take me to Arkham. "Since the breakout this afternoon, authorities have found no signs of Jeanette Napier," said the reporter. "Until she is found, she will be officially archived as missing. If anyone finds her, it would be most helpful if you could please contact the authorities immediately."

I froze in terror. "Can you please change the channel?" I squeaked.

The Joker nodded. "Sure thing." He pushed another button and the channel flipped to ESPN. I stared at the screen, not even really paying attention to the figures.

After I while, I decided that my hair must be dry by now. I got up. "I'll be back in a moment, okay?" I went back to the bathroom.

I refused to look at my hair until it was dry, so I fished around in the drawers for a hairbrush before stepping out of the way of the mirror and letting the towel fall off. I pulled the brush through my wavy locks and then looked at myself in the mirror. I almost screamed.

I took a deep breath. "New hair won't keep people from recognizing me," I reasoned. So I opened a random drawer and chuckled to myself. I just kept getting luckier and luckier.

I took the white cream makeup and covered my whole face. Then I took the brush and dipped it in the red face paint. I smeared it over my lips and on my cheeks, creating to appearance of a ghastly smile. I washed the brush out and dipped it in the black liquid. I painted circles over my eyes. I looked at myself.

I looked terrible, true. And I liked that. But I felt like I needed a finer touch. I decided to paint small black diamonds on my cheeks above my smile.

Ah. Now it was complete.

I pushed the door back with brutal force. The Joker turned to stare at me. "Hey," I said. "Aren't you gonna give a warm welcome to the Jester?" I began to laugh. He laughed with me.

Suddenly, he stopped. "You need a suit," he said. "I think I have something for you for now. Wait here." He disappeared into his room.

He came back a few seconds later with a gray heap. "Go put that on."

I glared at him when I came out of the bathroom in the huge suit. "This ain't gonna work."

"You're right," he agreed. "You're completely lost!"

"Don't remind me," I grumbled.

He started to cackle hysterically. He quickly calmed down, though. "How tall are you, again?"

"Four-ten," I told him.

"This ain't gonna work," he echoed. He put a hand to his chin in thought. "Oh! I have an idea!" He went over to a chest. He pulled out something small and black. He tossed it to me. I caught it reflexively.

I stared at the thing in my hands in disbelief. "What am I supposed to do with a gun?" I whispered.

"Hide it in your coat," he said easily. "Well, first, you need to go put on your other clothes. Then come back."

After I'd done this, he gave me a black coat. "It's just a regular jacket on me, so on you it should be like a trench coat," he observed. After I put it on, he said, "Ha! I was right! Now, put the gun in one in the coat pockets on the inside." I did so. "Now, go to the nearest thrift store. You'll know what to do."

"With the makeup on?" It was a dumb question, but one that had to be asked.

"Yes, with the makeup on," he sighed. "Now, go."

Silently, I crept out into the alley, using the darkness of night as my cover. I soon found the thrift store my brother had been talking about.

I pulled the collar of the coat up like a hood and went in. It didn't take me long to find a green women's suit in my size, along with a green button-up shirt, a green-and-purple tie, and a sateen purple vest. I took the stuff over to the counter.

A bit nervously, I took the gun out of my pocket and pointed it at the cashier's head. He stared at me like I was crazy.

I tried to sound as intimidating as I could. "Give me the clothes and I'll give you your life."

"Uh—uh-huh," the cashier stammered. He ripped the tags off. "Go!"

I ran as fast as I could back to my brother's alley. I pushed the plate of the manhole aside and climbed down.

The Joker gave me an approving nod when I got back. "You look tired," he noted. Now that he mentioned it, I was exhausted. He pointed to a door. "There's a guest room back there." I started to walk on.

I turned to face him. "What about you?"

"I have work to do," he said simply. "Get some sleep. You need it." Trusting his words, I obeyed.

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**There's Chapter Two! Tell me what you think!**


	3. Flashbacks and Fighting

**A/N: I have decided not to quit on this story. I like it way too much.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own TDK or the Pop-Tarts logo.**

**Enjoy!**

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_Daddy stumbled into the apartment. His eyes were glazed over and his hair was all messy. It looked like he'd been drinking again._

_Jack grabbed my skinny shoulders and led me to the hall closet. He opened the door and pushed me in roughly. "Stay here!" he ordered. I nodded. When you're only five, you need to listen to your big brother._

_He closed the door on me._

_I heard a lot of clattering, and Daddy laughing. Mommy screamed a bloodcurdling scream. _

_Daddy's boots made a scraping noise on the hardwood floor as he turned. I heard him growl, "Why so serious?"_

_I opened the door a crack to see Daddy stalking toward Jack. "Why so serious?" he snarled again. He was right up on Jack now. Daddy took the kitchen knife he was holding and stuck the blade in Jack's mouth. "Let's put a smile on that face!"_

"_Jackie!" I shrieked._

I woke up in a cold sweat.

Of course, I knew how it ended. Just as Daddy was about to slice Jack's mouth open, he passed out drunk on the floor and Jack and locked ourselves in our room. But Mommy would be scarred forever…

"Jean?" Even if he had changed his voice, I would have known it was the Joker. He had been the only one to call me by that name when we were younger. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," I answered. The Joker came in.

"You screamed," he said. "Is something wrong?" I could tell he hadn't cared about anyone in a while. The question was awkward, the inflection off.

I shook my head. "No, nothing's wrong. Just a bad dream."

"About Dad?" he guessed quietly.

"Yeah," I said again. We were quiet for a moment, but my stomach interrupted. "I'd better eat something." I stood up and went to the door. I stepped through the threshold and into the main room.

"I should warn you," my brother said. "There's not a whole lot to eat here…" I ignored him and headed for another door that I supposed was the kitchen.

I went in and discovered that I was right. A huge white-and-stainless steel kitchen walled with cabinets and the latest in cooking technology was behind the door. I went to the biggest cabinet, a pantry, and opened it, expecting bread and nuts and spices.

Instead, all I found was cereal and Pop-Tarts.

"This is it?" My voice was coated with disbelief.

"I warned you," the Joker reminded me.

I was angry beyond belief.

"What the hell?" I fumed. "Don't you know how to take care of yourself, man?" I wheeled and reached up to poke him in the chest. He backed up. "You need real food—not just cold cereal and _toaster pastries_!" I gave him a glare to frighten the Devil himself. "You get all this money from stealing stuff and you waste it on gunpowder, dynamite, and gasoline! What's gotten into your head?!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he pleaded. "If you want, I'll have some guys go out and get some eggs and stuff, okay?"

I grinned, pleased with myself. "Okay."

He grinned, too. "Although...I am impressed with your level of anger. I need to teach you how to fight. Are you trained with any weapons?"

I tried to recall my days of martial arts. "I'm good with a broadsword. Why?"

"No reason," he shrugged. He started to walk out. "Now, I'm just going to tell someone to get what you need and I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

I rolled my eyes. "As if. In case you haven't noticed, I'm kind of _at large _at the moment."

He came back a few minutes later, and we sat and watched TV, laughing at the tragedies being talked about on the news. Ah, justice. After about thirty minutes, he got up and went to the manhole. He returned with a bag of groceries and a cardboard box.

I took the groceries into the kitchen, delighted with the olive oil and eggs and cheese and salt and pepper that were in the bag. I proceeded to poke around for a frying pan and made omelets.

After my brother and I had eaten, he gave me the cardboard box he'd come in with. "What's this?" I asked him, though I was already opening the box. I gaped at what was inside. "You got me a broadsword?"

"Yeah," he said. "You said you were good with one. I figured I'd train you with a weapon you had experience with. Come on; let's go to the training arena."

He had a training arena?

He led me to a big room that resembled a gymnasium. The hardwood floors were pale maple and glossy. The Joker crossed to the other end of the room. I unsheathed the sword; I'd really have to get to know it better when I had the chance. My brother whipped out two knives. The sight of the weapons brought back painful memories of the past, things I didn't want to remember…

_Jack sat on his bed. I sat on his lap._

_Two weeks ago, Daddy died. Mommy was still wearing duct tape on her face so the scars could heal. We didn't have money for surgeries. _

_He raised a hand to run it through his dark-brown curls. "Jean," he said. I looked up at my brother. His tone was concerned, tired. As though he'd already been weathered by the world twice._

"_Yeah, Jackie?"_

"_I'm worried about Mom," he confessed. "She's so unhappy. I don't know what to do." Tears came to his dark eyes and overflowed._

"_It's okay, Jack," I told him. "No one has to know everything. Don't cry." I lifted my chubby little hand to his face and wiped away the liquid._

_Jack shook his head. "It's not that, Jeanette. I just…I know she can't take it. I just want to see her smile again. I just want her to know that I don't care about the scars!" His shoulders shook with his sobs and I hugged him tight._

A sharp burst of pain brought me back.

I stared uncomprehendingly at the slash in my sleeve and at the blood that welled up there.

"Sorry," said the Joker. "You weren't paying attention."

"Well, I am now," I retorted, and flung myself into the fight. Mainly I just kicked at him and blocked his knives with my sword. Finally, he was down.

"How did you do that?" he asked, bewildered.

I smiled. "You gain a lot of leg strength when you take ballet." I cackled.

"Well, then," he said, getting to his feet, "we'll just have to work on making your arms stronger, too." And we continued to spar.

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**Tell me what you think!**


	4. Harley Quinn

**A/N: And here is the next chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own it.**

**Enjoy!**

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The following morning, I woke up to an empty fortress. The Joker had left a note on the end table next to the purple recliner. "Jean," it said.

_I'm out on "business". Haha. Business. Anyway, I'll be back sometime today, if everything goes well. See you when I get back. —J_

I sighed. "Way to keep your sister informed, Jack," I muttered, as if my brother could hear me. I sat down on the green recliner and turned on the TV, immediately flipping to GCN.

"Once again, the Joker has been taken into custody," said the reporter. My mouth fell open. "He is currently being held at Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. He has not dropped any hints as to if he will attempt another breakout. But for now, we hope he will be kept under control. This has been Jack Ryder with the morning news."

I turned the television off. "No," I whispered. My brother, my Jackie, had been arrested. He was at Arkham. "_No_!"

I was alone. Completely and utterly alone.

One month later, I woke up and checked the news, as I did every day. This time, though, something good had happened.

"The Joker has escaped from Arkham," Jack Ryder said. My heart soared in my chest. _Yes! _"He has also taken Dr. Harleen Quinzel, possibly to hold for ransom. If anyone knows anything about where they are, please contact the pol—"

I shut the TV off.

I giggled, which built to a laugh, which became a cackle. I rocked back and forth in my glee. Tears came to my eyes. I hooted, trying to catch my breath.

I jumped up and began to dance, pirouetting and leaping. I felt so good, I…I wanted to steal. Something big. I wanted to hear about myself in the news. _A rising criminal, the Jester, has robbed…_

Hmm. What to rob? How about…

I had nothing.

But I was thinking too much. I couldn't think; I couldn't plan things out. I just had to _do _things. Don't think, just do.

I rushed out the door. Where to now?

When I got back, I put the huge sack of money on the couch and turned on the television, flipping it to GCN. Jack Ryder wasn't on now—it was some old guy.

"In other news," he said. "Gotham City Bank was robbed at nine-thirty this morning. There was virtually no evidence of the robbery other than the fact that half of the money in the vaults went missing. Also, written in red graffiti art on the west wall were the words 'The Jester'. We have with us Mr. Larry Nicholson with an account of the thief." The camera turned to a younger man sitting on a couch in the newsroom.

"Thank you," said Mr. Nicholson. "Now, what I saw…I couldn't believe it. It was like the Joker all over again. She was wearing a green-and-purple suit and clown makeup, and she had purple hair. She told us to get down and that if any of us tried to get away, she would find us and kill us. She was carrying a sword of some kind. Next thing we knew, she was coming up from the vaults with a huge bag filled with our money. Then she wrote 'The Jester' on the wall and left."

"Thank you, Mr. Nicholson," said the old man. He turned back to the camera. "It would seem that we have a new criminal to worry about, now that the Joker has been locked up. We'll be live at five with video of this morning's robbery."

I turned the television off and started laughing in my satisfaction. I'd done something right! Now the fight for equal rights would begin!

I heard the door burst open. I turned to see my brother. "Jackie!" I squealed. I ran to him, wrapping my arms around him. "You're okay!" I pulled back to look at him. "Did you hear about me? I robbed Gotham City Bank and got away!"

He grinned at me. "You did good, Jean. I'm _proud_ of you."

I beamed. _He's proud of me! _Then I noticed his company. "Who's this, Jack?"

The woman was pretty and tall, about nine inches taller than me. She had golden hair tied back into a neat bun and blue eyes behind black-rimmed glasses. Even though I was wearing clown makeup, she still made me feel ugly.

Did that make sense?

"I'm Harley," she said.

My brother turned to grin at her. "_Harley_," he drawled, as if he were savoring the sound of the name, "used to be Dr. Harleen Quinzel." He chuckled and I pondered him.

Well, it was a funny name. _Harleen Quinzel, _I thought. _Rework it a bit and you get Harlequin. Just like the clown character in Commedia Dell' Arte_. I laughed, too.

"She was supposed to, uh, _work_ on me at Arkham," he went on. "But instead, _I _worked on _her_. She understands us, Jean. So, she decided to come with me." He nodded his head, effectively preventing any of my questions. I sensed there was more to Harley than met the eye when it came to the Joker.

Harley smiled at me. "You must be the Jester," she said. "The reporters are raving about you on every local news channel."

"Already?" I was stunned. "That was fast."

Harley laughed. She turned to Jack. "I'm going to make myself at home, J," she said, and headed to his bedroom. Apparently, he'd already told her where it was.

"Okay," said the Joker. "You do that." He watched her go.

I wheeled to face him. "Something's going on here," I accused, wrinkling my nose. A burst of pain hit my head. "Wait a minute."

_Red and black, black and red, red and black…fabric. And Harley was wearing it. She resembled a sort of demented court jester. _

_The Joker smiled at her. "Ah, there's my Harley Quinn."_

I giggled. "Ha, ha. Harley Quinn. Harlequin." I paused. "Wait—Harley Quinn?" I tapped my foot impatiently. "You've got some 'splainin' to do."

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**Tell me what you think!**


	5. Important Author's Note: MUST READ!

**ATTENTION!!**

**This story is going on permanent hiatus. This means that I cannot finish it. My idea box is all out of whack for it.**

_**However**_**, I am putting it up for adoption, under the following regulations:**

**1. You can finish the story. (duh)**

**2. You MUST credit me.**

**3. You MUST keep the original title.**

**4. You MUST stick to plot and characterization.**

**5. You MUST make me proud.**

**You can post your adoption request in your review. The story goes to the first reviewer who wishes to adopt it. I will post the "winners" on my profile.**

**I am so terribly sorry.**

**Happy writing!**

—**Melori **


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